


Almost Home by Madison

by sgamadison



Series: Perfect Strangers [3]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-16 00:12:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1324528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgamadison/pseuds/sgamadison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A misconception by Carson has John and Rodney playing a role to help their friend and colleague regain his balance after a traumatic visit to an alternative universe. But just when things seem back to normal, the other universe continues to exert its influence...and this time it's John's turn to see how the other half lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Almost Home by Madison

**Author's Note:**

> This series is an older work that I only recently got around to importing. All mistakes are mine. It began as a short crackfic as an ode to John's hair, and turned into something more serious as the stories continued to unfold.

Sheppard awoke and found himself lying naked in the morgue, a very small part of him recognized the scene as being somewhat familiar. He sat up from where he was lying prone on the gurney in the refrigerated room, and waited for the room to stop spinning before trying to move again. He blinked, tried to clear his head and pulled the thin sheet covering him up further around his shoulders. He was cold and he couldn't think straight. His chest hurt too—like he'd been kicked by an elephant. First item on the agenda...he was in a morgue, okay, got that. But where? Okay, wait a minute, it was coming back to him...Rodney had that weird dream some months ago...

The name "Rodney" went with "McKay", which went with Extragalactic Pain In The Ass, which meant Pegasus galaxy so he must be sitting in the little refrigerated room that served as cold storage for bodies on Atlantis. Okay wait, now he was starting to remember. It hadn't been a dream of Rodney's after all. It had been back on the Aerlon homeworld...planet MX-whatever. McKay had been investigating a pylon with various inscriptions on it when he got zapped by some sort of energy beam. They all thought he'd died, only he woke up claiming to have been under the influence of some alien teaching device.

Huh. And then the class A-1 bastard they all knew as Dr. Rodney McKay appeared to undergo a personality change—a sort of Pegasus version of a Christmas Carol. He was still pretty much an arrogant jerk, but he'd suddenly developed a real interest in his work in the labs, proved to have unexpected leadership skills and was working hard to make friends. Well, maybe not make friends so much as not encourage making enemies.

Huh. They had been nowhere near the Aerlon homeworld today. What he _had_ been doing instead was a little fuzzy, but he clearly remembered Dr. Weir pretty much declaring the Aerlon homeworld off limits after McKay's debriefing, and that was months ago. The fact that McKay suggested that she spend a little time with the teaching device herself probably had not helped his cause any. Sheppard had to suppress a smile at the memory of the indignant expression on the expedition leader's face and then he shrugged and shivered a little. Damn, he was cold. He shifted uncomfortably on the gurney and felt something attached and fluttering against the big toe of his right foot.

Oh great. A toe tag. That was just plain creepy. Not that it was an unexpected outcome; really, in the Pegasus galaxy it was only a matter of time. Still, you weren't supposed to come face to face with your own tag. He lifted his foot up and crossed it over the opposite knee, wincing at the lingering soreness he felt at the movement as he slipped off the tag. Out of morbid curiosity, he turned it over and read, "John Sheppard, Lt. Colonel".

What the hell? _Lt. Colonel_? Okay, obviously the morgue attendant had been on acid when they filled out his paperwork, right? He found himself recalling McKay's bizarre tale of thinking he was held hostage in his own body for a period of several weeks while an alternate version of himself took possession and showed him how different his life could have been had he only made different choices all along. In reality, the whole experience took place within the span of a few hours—hours in which McKay had been presumed dead.

Well, though _he_ might currently be presumed to be dead, he certainly wasn't a prisoner in his own body. So this must be a completely different situation altogether. _Yeah, like the Lt. Colonel part wasn't a dead giveaway_. He ignored that sarcastic little voice in the back of his mind. He'd been hearing it most of his life and had gotten pretty good at disregarding it by now.

Whatever was going on, he would just keep his mouth shut and his head down low until he figured out how it was going to affect him. He'd learned the hard way a long time ago that this was the best course of action. Of course, he couldn't very sit around in the morgue and wait to see what happened next, now could he? With a sigh, he hoisted himself off the table and tucked the sheet around his body toga-style before warily exiting the storage room. Outside, the lights of Atlantis were soothingly dim; apparently it was sometime late in the evening. His stomach growled, sounding suddenly loud in the silent corridor and he had to repress the urge to snicker. Jeez, what was he, a twelve year old? Okay, so he missed dinner; no big deal.

He hesitated, uncertain as to which way to turn, where to go next. Logically, he should head to the infirmary, let that kid doctor Nash know that he was alive and reasonably well and then find out exactly what happened to him today. Inwardly he sighed at the thought of the explanations, blood tests and hoopla to follow such a course of action. It would be so much simpler to merely head back to his quarters and quietly puzzle out the likely course of events today. He thought longingly of the nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels he kept hidden in his room. If there was ever a reason to knock back a stiff drink, tonight was as good a night as any. Maybe he could hunt up McKay and pick his brains...

_Good idea_. He frowned at the thought, knowing it _was_ a good idea but feeling a little niggling resistance against agreeing with the backchatter in his mind. _Oh for Chrissakes_...he felt a spurt of irritation with himself and began to move stealthily down the hall. He had just reached the end of the corridor and had decided to turn towards the infirmary after all when someone came barreling around the corner and collided abruptly into him. His hands shot out to hold off the other person at arm's distance and was shocked to discover the other man was Dr. Carson Beckett.

The Scottish doctor looked equally as shocked; his mouth opened and closed helplessly before he squeaked out, "Colonel!" Sheppard had to resist the urge to look over his shoulder to see who Beckett was addressing, but before he could react, Beckett was gripping his forearms and saying in a voice combining disbelief and delight, "I thought you were dead!"

He could have said the same back to Beckett. The last time he had seen the man, he was dying an agonizing death on the planet Hoff, a victim of his own genetic research into trying to find a viable defense against the Wraith. He didn't count the brief encounter he had with an alternative universe version of the deceased physician that occurred about five or six months ago. At that time, the AU Beckett showed up in the city without explanation or warning, had been treated as a hostile intruder by the then CO, Colonel Sumner. After Sumner's untimely death, Beckett then disappeared as he came, leaving more questions than answers. Sheppard was not particularly proud of his role during that time period the AU Beckett had been held and questioned. Could this possibly be the same man?

"Uh, hey doc," Sheppard said weakly. "Mind telling me what's going on?" He couldn't help it; he gave a little involuntary shiver.

Beckett immediately began to fuss over him as though he were a long-lost puppy left out in the rain. "What's the last thing you remember? No, never ye mind that right now, we need to get you warmed up, and then get you checked out." Sheppard found himself gently but ruthlessly being marshaled down the hall towards the infirmary, Beckett guiding him by the elbow as though both for support and to make sure he didn't get away. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was amused by this side of Beckett, a determination and confidence that came out over medical matters that was not present in his non-professional dealings with people. Within minutes, he was seated on the edge of an infirmary bed, sheet swapped out for hospital scrubs, Beckett efficiently ordering blankets and something hot to drink, while at the same time getting that battery of tests underway and starting to ask his questions. Sheppard sank gratefully into the warm confines of the heated blanket that was dropped over his shoulders and cupped his hands around the proffered mug, sparing only a quick glance at the occupant of the bed next to him. He didn't recognize the little red-haired nurse that handed him the mug, but she gave him a 300 watt smile as she did so, before hurrying off to collect the things that Beckett was ordering.

He was startled to discover the rich aroma of coffee wafting upwards from the mug. Since when did they have coffee again? The last time there was any coffee in Atlantis, McKay had opened up the last of his secret stash to a select population in another one of his Scrooge-reformed moments. As though thinking about McKay caused him to materialize, Sheppard realized for the first time that the man lying unconscious in the next bed was the astrophysicist, hooked up to an IV line.

"Now then," Beckett was saying as he attached an old fashioned blood pressure device to Sheppard's arm and began pumping the cuff. Sheppard seemed to hear him saying from another time, " _Just because the equipment is antiquated doesn't mean it's not useful_." He blinked and tried to concentrate on what Beckett was saying now. "What's the last thing you remember, Colonel?"

Sheppard waited until Beckett had removed the stethoscope from his ears and released the pressure on the cuff. "What happened to McKay?"

Beckett's mouth froze in the act of speaking and he shot a worried look in McKay's direction. "Ah well, _that_." He looked a little apprehensive. "He seemed to be doing just fine when your team brought your...uh, _you_ back through the Gate this afternoon. Which of course, you know that means that he wasn't doing fine by a long shot. Preternaturally calm, if you can believe that, which is not like Rodney at all." Beckett shook his head and removed the cuff, reaching next for his vicious little collection of bloodletting toys. He tied a tourniquet on Sheppard's arm and smartly popped up a vein for a blood sample as he continued to speak. "He kept insisting that you weren't really dead, that he had 'seen' the whole thing in a dream before and that everything was going to be all right."

He collected his samples, releasing the tourniquet and folding a cotton ball into the crook of Sheppard's arm until he could apply a band-aid, tipping the blood tubes back and forth with the other hand so that the samples would mix with the contents of the various colored tubes. The entire operation was so smooth, Sheppard bet Beckett could do it in his sleep.

"Sooo, what happened?" Sheppard prompted.

Beckett sighed. "Well, several hours went by. And you were still dead—something I have not overlooked, by the way and we will be coming back to that later, Colonel," his voice carried a friendly warning, "so I felt that...oh dear." He stopped suddenly, looking stricken.

"What?" Sheppard pushed again for an answer, pulling his arm back into the warm cocoon of the heated blankets.

"Well," Beckett swallowed hard, "I thought I needed to do an autopsy."

There was a silence as both men thought about that for a moment, Sheppard suddenly envisioning himself cut sternum to groin, with Beckett's bloody, gloved hands lifting various organs out of his chest cavity and plunking them down on a butcher's scale. He shuddered, looked up and caught Beckett's eye.

"Glad you didn't get around to that, doc." He gave a feeble grin.

"I didn't, because Rodney got a wee bit distraught at the idea. To put it mildly. He practically became unhinged. Neither Elizabeth nor Teyla could get through to him at all. If Ronon hadn't intervened, I'm sure he would have hit me. As it was, I said screw the valium and went straight for the good stuff."

He glanced over at McKay's prone form and Sheppard followed his eye. McKay looked rumpled as he lay in the other bed, with his mouth slightly open and his hair ruffled. He seemed vulnerable somehow and nothing in his previous dealings with McKay had ever made him think that before. Sheppard was still processing the names _Teyla_ and _Ronon_ even as he wondered about the oddity of McKay needing to be sedated.

"Aye," Beckett sounded rueful. "Everyone was upset and he was making things ten times worse, you know Rodney." He raised an eyebrow at Sheppard. "I gave him some Diprovan—'milk of amnesia', we call it. We just needed him... _out_...if you know what I mean. Of course you know what this means now...he was _right_. When he wakes up, there'll be hell to pay." He sighed. "He'll start by asking if I am really a doctor at all, and then suggest I picked up my degree at the local Piggly-Wiggly or some such nonsense place and then he'll pretend for the next four years that he cannot trust any diagnosis I make..."

Sheppard couldn't help it, in his head he could hear the 'McKay' rant and his mouth twitched in an effort not to smile.

"Oh don't think you're going to get off so lightly, Colonel," Beckett scolded. "I heard quite a bit about Air Force Colonels who couldn't keep their hands to themselves and _hell-o_ , Pegasus Galaxy, where everything here wants to kill you." His imitation of McKay was recognizable, no mean feat with the Scottish accent.

'That must have been... odd." Sheppard found himself becoming inexplicably embarrassed under Beckett's gaze. Beckett held his eye for a second longer and then his stern countenance softened.

"He sat with you for the longest time." Beckett's voice was quiet and he glanced fondly over towards McKay's bed before looking back at Sheppard. "He just kept talking to you as though you could hear him. It was...difficult. We had to finally make him leave."

Sheppard felt his throat tighten with unaccustomed emotion and suddenly the sarcastic voice in the back of his head was sniping again. _Make a joke, lighten the mood for crying out loud_.

"So, doc," Sheppard gave into to the temptation. "There's no way you could manage to keep him sedated for a few _days_ , is there?"

Beckett gripped his shoulder briefly, the warm contact startling him. "I'll see what I can do, for both our sakes. In the meantime, let me get these samples processed and then it's off for a whole body scan for you."

_Oh joy_. This time, he agreed with the voice. He eased himself backwards onto the bed and closed his eyes. He found himself dozing during the scanning process itself, waking with a start to look at his wrist, only to realize that he was not wearing his watch. It felt late though; his internal clock said it was probably two or three in the morning. He glanced over at McKay's bed and saw that he no longer had an IV drip going. _Might be a good idea to be out of here before he wakes up_. Sheppard could swear the voice had a smirk now. He looked around and noticed a stack of clean clothing on the table next to his bed that had not been there earlier. A closer investigation revealed his watch sitting on top, so he took this as tacit approval that he was free to go. _Works for me_. The agreement of the wry voice gave him pause.

_Oh c'mon. If Becket really wanted you to stay in the infirmary, then he wouldn't have provided you with clothes, now would he_?

He was dressed and putting on his boots when Beckett came back into the room. He said nothing, merely rolling his eyes and walking over to McKay's bed first to check on him. Sheppard couldn't see what exactly he was doing; he appeared to pick up McKay's hand and adjust it. Then he turned and made his way over to Sheppard, holding out a closed fist.

Warily, an eyebrow raised, he proffered an open palm to the doctor, who then dropped a set of dog tags into his hand. _His_ dog tags. He ran the chain in his fingers until he came to the tags, intending to slip them over his head but the memory of the toe tag came back to him and he looked at the imprint. Yup. Lt. Colonel here too. Something made him turn the tags over in his palm and he was startled to see something etched on the back.

Neatly engraved on the back of one thin metal tag were the initials 'MRM' and the word 'Atlantis'. Beckett had just retrieved his tags...from McKay's hand. He caught his breath for an instant as he made the connection. He looked up and found Beckett's kindly eye upon him.

"I've never been gladder about a mistaken diagnosis in my life." He frowned suddenly, a hand reaching out for Sheppard's arm. "Are you all right, Colonel?"

Sheppard stepped back out of his reach involuntarily. He slipped the tags casually over his head before looking up at Beckett again. "Oh sure, I'm fine. It's just..." _Okay, let's hear it, Slick. What's your game plan_? "So, let me guess what happened here today. We went to the Aerlon homeworld, right? And there was this pylon. And I must have activated it somehow and this beam shot out and zapped me—how am I doing so far?"

Beckett nodded approvingly. "Go on."

"So, you guys think I'm dead..." Sheppard thought rapidly about what to say next, "but I'm not, I'm in some sort of deep stasis. I think maybe the device was intended as some sort of teaching tool." _The best lies always contain an element of truth_.

"A teaching device?" Beckett frowned. "Rodney mentioned that too. Only he said he had experienced the whole thing as a dream some months back and that you didn't believe him. What sort of teaching tool? What do you think you have learned?"

"Well, if it were that simple, doc, they wouldn't have to zap someone to get the point across, now would they? I mean, it's just an impression I have, I don't really know." _Nice touch, Slick. Confound them with sarcasm_. Sheppard willed the wry voice to shut up. "Some of the details are a little fuzzy. Did you find anything wrong with me?"

"No," Beckett sighed. "You are as healthy as a horse. Healthier than you have any right to be. So I know there's no good in my insisting that you stay here overnight for observation. Anyway, Rodney would point out that we were _so_ observant the first time we failed to notice that you were actually alive. So go with my blessing and try to get some rest. Unless there's something you want to tell me...?"

"No...I just. Well," he paused, deciding to take a small risk. "You know when you went to the alternative universe a while back?" He could always say he was confused if this Beckett said 'What alternative universe?'

Beckett let out a gusty sigh and shoved his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat. "Too bloody well. What a nightmare that was."

Sheppard felt his face redden. He hated that he had been forced to follow Sumner's orders regarding the interrogation of Beckett when he crossed into their universe. At least now he knew it was probably the same Beckett..."Well, when you got back, weren't things just a little...unsettled for you? Maybe a little confusing?"

Beckett snorted. "You know they were. I was so upset and so discombobulated that I wasn't sure I had returned to the right universe at all, and you know what kind of mess _that_ created. Fortunately all's well that ends well. Sneaky of you to take advantage of the situation for your own means, not that I blame you though. Why do you ask?"

_Well, that was no help at all, was it_? The sarcastic voice seemed particularly gleeful, as though it held in its keeping a little secret all its own. "I...uh, well, feel a little unsettled myself, that's all. Like...like when you have a dream that seems so real you can't tell if it is or not."

Beckett frowned. "Most likely this is a result of being unconscious for so long, but I want you to make an appointment to see Dr. Heightmeyer tomorrow if this feeling persists after a good night's sleep. Of course, that means you actually have to _sleep_ first." He took Sheppard by the arm and guided him towards the door before releasing him again. "Consider yourself off duty for the time being. I'll speak to Major Lorne in the morning. Rodney will be up by then as well. Elizabeth, Teyla and Ronon are waiting to see you outside, but I've told everyone be brief, you need to get some rest. Unless you want to stay here? No, I didn't think so."

Sheppard spared a quick glance at Rodney sleeping the sleep of angels ( _lucky bastard_ ) before processing what Beckett had just said, even as he followed the man out into the waiting area. He then felt a chill that had nothing to do with being in the morgue all afternoon—obviously team AU SGA-1 had discovered the Aerlon homeworld and Sheppard had been trapped in the beam this time. Did this mean that he was now in Lt. Colonel Sheppard's universe? It was beginning to look like it. He recalled _his_ McKay's scathing assessment of Heightmeyer when he first explained to Sheppard his experiences on Aerlon and Sheppard had suggested a session with Dr. Kate. " _Dr. Valley of the Dolls? No, thank you_." For a moment, he found himself listening for the sarcastic little voice in his head and then mentally shook himself. Best stay away from this Heightmeyer for now, at least until he had a chance to find out if she was a drug abuser like the one in his universe. Elizabeth he presumed was Dr. Weir—Beckett at least was on a first name basis with her then. He less surprised about Teyla being an active force in Atlantis now—ever since McKay came out of his 'teaching device coma' and had introduced them to the Athosian people, the beautiful leader had proven to be a good friend and ally to the Earth expedition. But who the hell was Major Lorne? Or for that matter, Ronon?

He came to an uncertain halt behind Beckett when they entered the waiting area. Before him, several people were seated in various uncomfortable looking chairs, with one exception, a giant of a man leaning against one wall, sporting dread-locked hair and a sleeveless shirt that accentuated an impressive set of muscles. He appeared deceptively at ease, but Sheppard knew instinctively he was not. _Did he say Ronon or Conan_? He could swear the little voice was snickering now.

All heads lifted when he and Beckett entered the area. Elizabeth was scarcely recognizable to him. The elegant woman rising quickly to her feet on his entrance bore no resemblance to the frumpy, scattered Dr. Weir that he worked with back home. He could suddenly see why McKay had been obsessed with some weird idea of staging an Extreme Makeover for their leader; this woman radiated confidence and leadership, even as her sculpted face bore signs of earlier grief. She stepped forward quickly to embrace him, a brief, intense hug before she pushed him back and smiled at him with tear-swollen eyes.

"This is an excellent ending to what had been a really crappy day." Her smile was watery but heartfelt. He felt like shuffling his feet and saying, 'aw shucks, m'mam.' She stepped back and her place was taken by Teyla. If the little nurse had given him a 300 watt smile earlier, the expression on Teyla's face rivaled that of a hundred suns. She placed both hands on his shoulders and tipped her head forward; he remembered in time this was some traditional Asthosian greeting he had seen among her people and copied the gesture, touching foreheads with her.

"I cannot decide if the problem is you cannot stay alive or cannot stay dead." Teyla's voice was solemn, resigned, against his chest. She lifted her head to look at him, her eyes alight with mischief. "Word has it the betting pool is two to one in favor of you cannot stay dead."

"I'll take those odds." There was general, relieved laughter and he somehow knew that was the right thing to say.

When he looked up over Teyla's beaming face, he caught Ronon's eye. He had straightened from his negligent lean against the wall, and stood with his arms folded across his chest.

"Glad you're not dead." His handsome face was impassive.

"Um, ditto," Sheppard said. Thank god Ronon had not also come over to hug him. He could hear the sound of his own spine snapping like a dry twig from the bear hug this guy would be likely to give. He was also beginning to think this was the Touchy-Feely universe, the way everyone kept reaching out to make contact with him. _They're just glad that you're okay. Deal with it_.

"Do you remember what happened?" Weir was asking.

"Sort of. Well, not really. Everything's a little sketchy."

"No, no, no," Beckett interrupted. "Not tonight. It's late—everyone go to bed now. You can all rehash what happened in the morning."

"Dr. Beckett is right. We can talk in the morning." Teyla's smile was still incandescent. She touched his arm briefly before moving off. Weir moved in for a quick stealth hug before Beckett could stop her and Ronon abruptly smacked him on the shoulder with enough force to nearly stagger him. Beckett waited like some sort of Scottish terrier until the halls were emptied before nodding a dismissal to Sheppard, clearing him to go. He himself turned back to the infirmary.

And then he was alone. At last. He resisted the urge to sit down in a corner somewhere and take several deep gulping breaths. _Oh don't be such a big baby_. His head snapped up at the taunting words; goddamn it, he'd never had had such a hard time ignoring his conscience before. _Maybe you shouldn't ignore it so often_. Resolutely, he marched off down the hallway towards his quarters, hoping that they were in the same location in this universe.

As he walked down the corridor, he had a hard time shaking off a feeling of edgy unease, something crawling just at the back of his mind, something that whispered " _not right_." The city almost felt like a living creature to him and one that seemed faintly hostile to his presence. It was all he could do to keep himself from picking up the pace and dropping into a light jog. He told himself he was being stupid, like a kid walking home in the woods after dark and suddenly imaging there were monsters in the shadows. Still, he was breathing a little hard when he reached his quarters.

At least, he thought they were his quarters. The door seemed to hesitate slightly at his command to open, but the lights came on obediently and he entered with a sigh, shutting the door behind him with a thought. He paused on the threshold, startled by what he saw. The small utilitarian room that he had been stationed in for the last year or so had somehow been re-decorated in his absence. And yet, as he slowly surveyed the room, everything in there seemed to be something that he himself might have chosen. He moved cautiously around the room, as though afraid of disturbing the true occupant. His eye flicked over the acoustic guitar on its stand—he had always wanted to learn how to play. Posters on the wall—obviously this expedition did not have the same personal item restrictions that his universe had levied on them. A couple of books, real books, not just some flash drive versions, were neatly stacked on a table by the bed, the most notable of them being _War and Peace_ in a bright red dust jacket. He fired off a snarky thought to his AU counterpart. _What were you thinking_?

A framed photo caught his eye. In it a woman with a beautiful smile and graying hair stood laughing while she hugged what was obviously a 12 year old version of himself, the two of them beaming at the camera with identical looks of mischief on their faces. His breath caught and he reached out to trace the image of the woman's face with his fingertip. His mother. Or at least, the mother he would have had if she had lived, if she had not died when he was a baby.

He sat down hard on the bed and tried to imagine what his life would have been like if she had lived. Would his father have slid into alcoholism anyway? Would he have ended up taking his life regardless? The fact that he did sent Sheppard into a series of foster homes, something that apparently did not happen to the Lt. Colonel Sheppard of this universe. Long simmering anger threatened to boil over once more and out of habit, he clamped down on it. Abruptly he stood and headed for the closet.

_It won't be there_. He froze in the act of reaching up onto the shelf, hoping against hope that the bottle would be there. _And maybe with your history, you should think about laying off the sauce, eh_?

His hand jerked. "Who are you?" He said aloud to the room. He felt a soft laugh in his mind.

_Who do you think I am? Lt. Colonel John Sheppard, at your service_.

****

There really wasn't any point in trying to get any sleep after that little revelation. If he concentrated really hard, he could shut out the voice of his AU counterpart, a sort of 'la-la-la-I-can't-hear-you' concentration that didn't allow him to focus on much of anything else. But the voice just nagged at him, popping up at moments when he really thought it was silent for good and nearly driving him crazy with its smirky-smart-assedness. ( _I don't think that's a word_ ) He managed to literally drown it out for a time by taking a long shower, but was reminded afresh of how wrong everything was when he discovered he now had scars he did not expect and was missing some that he did. He was startled too when he glanced in the mirror and realized how generally rested he looked, like he hadn't been living on short rations and little sleep for months on end. _Yeah, that's what regular sex will do for you_. He smacked himself on the forehead over that one.

Around 5 am, he gave up on any further pretense at sleep and dressed in sweats to take a run. He was surprised to find Ronon waiting for him at his usual starting place and he felt a little like a jogger that had stumbled upon a mountain lion on a rural path. He quickly took in the lack of athletic attire, the well worn clothes in muted colors and the leather wrist guards. Like it was some sort of uniform. Ronon watched him warm up with half-slitted eyes and then casually fell into step with him as he set his pace.

After the first five minutes, he became aware that Ronon was not even breathing hard. After 30 minutes, with sweat starting to darken the collar of his shirt, Ronon still appeared cool and collected, like he could keep up this pace all day. When they completed the circuit and Sheppard paused, bent over at the waist, hands on knees as he caught his breath, Ronon merely folded his arms across his broad chest and looked at him.

"You all right?" He asked at last.

"Sure. Why'd you ask?" Sheppard tried for nonchalant. Something in Ronon's eye felt like the man could see right through him, knew he was a fraud.

"You are usually...chattier."

"Oh." Sheppard thought about that for a moment. "Sorry."

"I've gotten used to it." Ronon did not appear to realize that he was actually apologizing for _not_ being chatty today, rather than for being chatty in general. He found Ronon's steady eye on him unnerving. He mumbled something about needing to check in with Lorne and made his escape, heading back for quick shower before showing up in the mess hall.

It was still early for the breakfast crowd. The smells that greeted his nostrils on entering the mess practically had him salivating. Bacon? And more coffee too...damn, this universe had some perks. He headed over to the empty line and discovered all his favorite foods on display. Justifying loading his tray to the maximum on his having skipped dinner ( _and lunch too_ ) the day before, he carefully piled on the eggs, bacon, biscuits and a huge stack of pancakes.

"Ladies," he greeted two of the servers, after rapidly crunching down the bacon he had not waited to start eating. "You've really outdone yourselves today. Some special occasion?"

One of the women folded her arms, a large wooden spoon in one hand. "Didn't you get the memo? It's 'Colonel Sheppard Didn't Die _Again_ ' day."

"We celebrate that day a little too frequently, if you ask me," the other woman said with a sniff.

"Oh, no more than 'Dr. McKay Saves the City' day. And it could be worse, it could be 'We Survived Another Wraith Attack' day."

"Oh look, you made him blush. He's so cute when he blushes." The two women nudged each other and then burst into peals of laughter. Feeling the very tips of his ears burning, Sheppard made his uncomfortable way to an isolated table and hesitated before tackling the windfall breakfast. He needed more information, of that he was sure. Maybe after breakfast he would spend some time going over the mission reports for the past year. The Colonel was being stonily silent this morning, having pushed strongly for him to reveal the true circumstances of his presence in this universe, but he had resisted the 'suggestion'. _Fine. But when everyone realizes you're not really me, at least remind them that I'm still in here before they kill you, okay_?

****

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with Colonel Sheppard?" Rodney demanded as he stood in the doorway and glared at the hapless man behind the desk. He got a very satisfactory response—John's head snapped up, hazel eyes widening in shock, a taut look on his face that made him look very much like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "You're _never_ in your office. Do you know how long it took me to track you down? And oh by the way, thank you for checking in on me this morning, for that nice little 'hello Rodney, I'm not dead after all' speech. Oh wait a minute, I never got that speech from you this morning. As a matter of fact, this is the first I've seen of you since we carried your lifeless body through the Gate yesterday."

John's face suddenly developed a shuttered expression. His eyes flicked back to the open laptop before looking up at Rodney again. "McKay." His voice was almost disapproving. "Are you aware that the military CO here at Atlantis is a fucking _lunatic_?"

_Uh-oh. It was going to be one of those days_...

"No, no, no." He came into the room, thinking the door shut behind him and leaning forward, hands on the edge of the desk. "I was working myself up into a righteous and extremely justified state of indignation. You do not get to supersede that by going all introspective on me. You do _not_ get to be madder with yourself than I am with you. You've been re-reading mission reports again, haven't you?"

John sat frowning at him. "Yes. So?"

"So, whenever you do that you decide that everything that has happened in the Pegasus galaxy since our arrival is your fault. Pretty egocentric of you, if you ask me." Rodney straightened and crossed his arms over his chest.

"McKay, looking at the overall balance here, the only thing I can see where we actually made a positive difference is that we managed to convince Keras and his people not to kill themselves on their 25th birthdays." He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair.

"Well, if we are going to pick apart mission reports at random, how about this one? We destroyed the nanovirus that would have decimated the city."

"Yes. That." John sat up abruptly, his words were clipped. "And the nanovirus would not have spread through the city if the...if I had not insisted on tracking down Peterson myself. Oh yes, and let's talk about the fact that I undermined Weir's authority at the same time."

Rodney frowned. That was an odd way to refer to Elizabeth. "No one could have known the city would have its own lockdown protocols for something like an engineered infectious organism—you acted in order to stop Peterson before that became apparent. But hey, don't hold back. Let's not forget about the fact that you placed Bates in a really bad position too. You know, Bates must have really struggled with trying to decide whom it would give him the most pleasure to disobey—you or Elizabeth." He smirked.

"I'm _trying_ to be serious here."

"Yes, and it's such an effort for you, I know." He held up a hand like a stop sign. "And before you start, almost everything that happened in the last year or so that you feel is directly your fault was as a result of a series of unforeseen circumstances. Last time I checked, picking up a necklace out of the dirt and returning it to its owner wasn't considered a dangerous act. No one expects nice Amish farmers to have hidden desires at creating the Third Reich. And _I_ was the one who lost the ZPM on Dagan. Which could have had disastrous consequences, as we all know."

"Let's not forget my dispatching Colonel Sumner and the waking of the Wraith," John said in a silky voice, eyes narrowing.

"Well, obviously _you_ can't..." Rodney muttered under his breath. He steepled his fingers in front of him, tapping his thumbs together as he waited impatiently for John to go on. When he did not, Rodney prodded. "Hey, don't leave out the part about letting the Wraith civilization in on the fact that they can have direct access to a whole new galaxy of feeding grounds through the Atlantis Stargate. You know, in case you don't have enough to feel guilty about today."

"Actually," John said slowly, "that _isn't_ my fault. The Wraith extracted that information from Colonel Sumner." He paused for a long moment, and cocked his head to one side, as though he were listening to someone over the radio com link.

"Okay, that's one point for Colonel Sumner, seven hundred and twenty for Colonel Sheppard. Because, you know, the Pegasus galaxy is sooo predictable and no one who has ever traveled through the Gate in the last, oh say ten years or so, has ever made a mistake due to the dangers inherent in working with alien cultures and oh, I don't know, _aliens_. I swear, I feel like I am relieving a bad remake of _50 First Dates_." Rodney grumbled.

"What?" John focused on him again, looked totally confused.

"You know, that Drew Barrymore movie where she has no long term memory? And each day she resets to the last day she can fully remember? And her whole family had this elaborate conspiracy to keep her from figuring out she was reliving the same day over and over?"

"Yessss." He dragged out the syllables, obviously not getting it.

"Well, when she would have a bad day—a break in the conspiracy, they would all pitch in and deal with the fallout until the next day—when she would forget it all again. You're just having a bad day. And we've had this conversation before. "

"McKay." John's eyebrow climbed into his hairline. "Are you saying I'm Drew Barrymore?"

"I admit, it makes a change from Kirk, doesn't it?" Rodney grinned.

"You are a very odd man." The words were said without sting however.

"Thank you for being one of the few people to truly appreciate that. Well, since I'm obviously going to be deprived of yelling at you, I have to ask...are you going to sit in your office all day and mope or do you intend to keep your sparring session with Teyla? I'm sure she would let you weenie out of it, on the 'I've been mostly dead all day' defense, only you made the mistake of running with Ronon this morning."

The expression on his face was just beautiful. A combination of _oh shit_ and _how the fuck do I get out of this one_? It was almost worth the crappy drug-induced hangover he had woken up with in the infirmary in order to place that look on John's face. He tapped the surface of his watch. "You're going to be late. You know how Teyla feels about that."

John stood with a sigh and began moving towards the door. Rodney reached out for John's shoulder as he came abreast of him and said, "Hey."

He stopped, an unexpected wariness in his expression.

"I knew you weren't dead." Rodney's voice was soft.

John looked at Rodney's hand on his shoulder, then down at his feet and back up again. "Hey, way to go on holding up that autopsy," another odd pause and then, "Rodney." He hesitated, searching for words. "Good move." His attempt at a grin looked like it might actually hurt.

Rodney pulled him into a hug. He was not surprised when John froze momentarily. For a tactile person, John wasn't much on hugging, not unless he initiated. And then there was the whole thing about the two of them being in his office, definitely a no-no in John's book. He slid his arms around John's back and breathed into the side of his neck. "I'm glad you're not dead... _again_."

There was a momentary hitch in John's breathing, then he seemed to give in ever so slightly to the contact, leaning into Rodney's support. He brought his own hands up behind Rodney's shoulders, fingers tensing tightly into the cloth of his shirt before he suddenly let go and took a step back. He did not seem to be able to meet Rodney's eye.

"I swear, you're worse than some mangy old alley cat." Rodney rolled his eyes and made room to let him pass, the door to the office popping open. "Fine. Try not to let Teyla hurt you too much. I'll leave a dish of milk out by the door—I trust you can find your way back home?"

John opened and closed his mouth without speaking before managing another one of those weak grins as he left the room. Rodney stood frowning as he watched his passage down the corridor. _What the hell_?

****

Rodney was seated in front of his laptop, staring blankly at the screen. Technically, he was off duty, as one who had been ruthlessly drugged into submission the day before and oh, Carson was never going to hear the end of _that_ one. So instead of tackling the six or seven projects he currently had going, he picked one or two minor things to work on to keep him busy until such time as he could reasonably expect to meet up with John. What he would do at that point was less certain.

He had just finished re-writing a subroutine to deal with the persistent problems of one such project. He tapped the stylus of his PDA on the table top in rapid succession as he pondered the events of the last 24 hours. The door to his lab suddenly opened and Teyla entered the room, followed shortly by Radek and with Ronon looming behind.

Rodney stilled his hand. "Let me guess. You've all come here to tell me something is wrong with the Colonel."

Ronon remained his usual silent, stoic self. Teyla and Radek exchanged a glance before she spoke. "You've noticed it as well, then?"

"Please," Rodney sighed, rolling his eyes, "greatest mind of this generation, yes? But come on, let's hear your evidence." He made an impatient, beckoning motion with his right hand.

Teyla glanced briefly at the others. "Very well. When he showed up for our session this morning, he neglected to bring his fighting sticks. When I offered to loan him a set, he was...unusually mal-adept at their use."

Rodney thought about all the various reasons for why John might play the fool with Teyla, but none would have taken this particular form of expression. Frowning, he looked over at Ronon, who shrugged. "He's Sheppard...but he's not."

"Oooh, very precise, Ronon," Rodney snarked. "I'll be sure to share your insights with Elizabeth on that one." Still, he had to admit, he sort of knew what Ronon meant. He turned to Radek. "Well? What've _you_ got?"

Radek looked grim. "I made a disparaging comment about someone's work in the Colonel's hearing this morning. I likened the competency to that of Kavenaugh." Radek paused for effect. "The Colonel said, 'So what's so bad about Kavenaugh? He always seemed like an okay guy to me...'"

Rodney inhaled sharply. "Okay. I see your collective points. I think I know what this is all about. Let me work on it—and say nothing to no one for the time being until I come up with a plan."

****

Reluctantly deciding against taking a third shower in less than 12 hours ( _What are you, an amphibian_?), Sheppard debated whether or not to grab an early dinner. He had made it through two-thirds of the first year's mission reports, skipping around a little when mention of the Daedalus made him realize the degree to which things had changed around the Atlantis in this universe. The words on the laptop screen were now starting to swim. It didn't help that as he read the stark reports, scenes which he presumed were actually the Colonel's memories, would flash into his mind. It was as though he were watching a mini-series and morbidly fascinating as it was, by late afternoon he was beginning to get a headache.

He stood, stretching arms over his head and releasing the tension in his back with a satisfying pop. Food had little appeal at the moment, but if nothing else, he could get another cup of coffee and scare up a couple of Tylenol from somewhere. It had been easier just to hide out in his quarters (apparently another location few people thought to find him—what exactly did he do here all day?) after he sensed that he had made some errors in speaking to various expedition members. He had no idea what he was going to do about Rodney.

He had just reached the door when it opened unexpectedly and suddenly he was shoved hard several feet backwards into the room. "McKay!" He glared as Rodney made his way unannounced into the room. "What the fuck's wrong with you?"

Rodney answered by raising a 9 mil and pointing it directly at his chest. "I could say the same of you. At the risk of repeating myself, who _are_ you and what have you done with Colonel Sheppard?" The door slid shut behind him with a small snick.

_Whoa_! Sheppard had to agree with the Colonel's assessment of the situation. Rodney stood in unwavering form, an unexpectedly muscular arm holding the handgun steady in front of him, body perpendicular to his gun arm as though to minimize himself as a target. _And to think I taught him that_...

"Up against the wall," Rodney barked. "Hands above your head."

Sheppard just gaped at him. "Rodney..." he began.

"Don't call me that," Rodney growled. "Move. Now. Or I'll shoot."

_Better do as he says. Although I don't think he'd_ **really** _shoot_...Hands raised slowly in good faith, Sheppard turned and faced the wall, placing his hands flat on the surface, just above shoulder height. Rodney moved in suddenly, flattening him forcefully against the wall, the weight of his body pinning him down and preventing him from moving. Rodney shoved a leg in between his own and kicked his feet into a wider stance before placing the cold end of the pistol against the back of his neck.

"Don't move. Don't even take a deep breath." The warning was breathed into his ear and then Rodney was efficiently frisking him down for weapons, broad hands running down his sides and then up and down his legs. He did inhale more deeply than usual as a hand brushed the inside of one thigh and Rodney straightened, driving the tip of the 9 mil more firmly into his skin. _Wow. That's really...hot_. Sheppard could feel the adrenaline surge coursing through his borrowed form as well as the heightened awareness of the proximity of Rodney's body to his, the heat from Rodney's thigh where it pressed against his own.

"I ask again. Who _are_ you?" The deadly intensity of Rodney's voice made him shiver in acknowledgment of the danger he was in, but also in rampant desire. Jesus! Can you put a sock in it? His warning to the Colonel was terse. You are a sick, sick puppy, Colonel. Sick, twisted...oh god. He was right...hot. _Very_ hot.

"I'm waiting...but getting impatient," Rodney warned.

"Rod-nuh...ah, McKay." Sheppard's voice came out husky and he paused to clear his throat. He closed his eyes against the sensations flooding his body, his face turned to one side along the wall. "Remember your dream? About Aerlon? It wasn't all a dream—you really did go there. I'm the John Sheppard of that universe. But the Colonel is still here—somehow the pylon brought me here and placed me in his body. He's here too, so try not to kill us, okay?"

The pressure from the end of the pistol lessened by a millimeter.

"Prove it."

"Prove it?" Sheppard was puzzled. How did Rodney expect him to prove something unseen?

"Let me speak to John."

"Um, McKay? It doesn't work like that." He opened his eyes to try and make Rodney understand. The weight of Rodney's body was still full against his back and he shifted ever so slightly to ease the pressure building against his pelvis. The nozzle of the pistol ground into his neck again.

"Why not? When Cadman was trapped inside my body, she was very adept at taking over and speaking through me—even when I didn't want her to do so," he finished darkly.

WTF? Okay, he hadn't gotten that far in the mission reports yet. "Sorry, I don't know anything about that. I only know I can hear the Colonel sniping at me in the background, okay?"

Rodney huffed slightly. "So we are at an impasse then?" His voice was cool. The gun muzzle still pressed into the back of Sheppard's neck.

"Well, just so you know... this whole bad-ass thing you have going with the Beretta? The Colonel thinks this is very...um, hot."

"Oh he _does_ , does he?" Rodney's breath was warm against his neck. Rodney ground in closer from behind, pressing his thigh up further between Sheppard's legs. He drew his breath in with a little stutter and felt his eyes close again. The fingers of his left hand curled and tightened against the tiled wall.

Abruptly, the searing heat of Rodney's body left off covering his own and Sheppard felt suddenly bereft and as cold as if he had just woken up in the morgue again. "Turn around. Slowly." The words were still a command.

Sheppard turned to face a seriously hacked-off looking Rodney. _You're in trou-ble_. The voice in his head was suspiciously sing-song in nature. Bite me, Colonel.

"Just how long did you expect to be able to get away with this? No, forget that. What did you hope to accomplish by keeping your true identity a secret? And don't give me some bullshit about wanting intel. I need the truth from you and I'm warning you, I'll know if you're lying to me." The gun lowered, but was still in a ready position.

Sheppard opened his mouth to say exactly that, that he needed intel on the things that this universe had experienced, things that might help him from making the same mistakes, things that might help make a difference for good in his own crappy universe. He stopped at Rodney's resolute expression. "I..." He started, then stopped again. Rodney raised a withering eyebrow.

"I just wanted to know what it was like to have someone care that much about me." The words seemed to come out of his mouth involuntarily. He wished immediately he could draw them back. Rodney stared at him for a long moment, mouth slightly parted in disbelief before placing the safety on the gun and laying it carefully on the bedside table. He turned and took several deliberate steps towards Sheppard before stopping a scant foot from him.

"That is just... _pathetic_." He gave a crooked little smile and pushed Sheppard with a little shove in the shoulder. "Ohmygod. What am I going to do with you? C'mere." He abruptly pulled Sheppard back into a hug similar to the one he had given earlier that morning. As before, Sheppard was stiff in his embrace before the thaw set in, a slight relaxation and then Sheppard was fiercely hugging Rodney back. "Idiot." Rodney stepped back and cuffed him lightly on the back of the head. "As enlightening as this is, you know things can't stay this way. We need to get you back home and out of John."

Sheppard fired an automatic "shut up" at the Colonel, even as he fought off the disappointment he knew he should not be feeling right now. Rodney was right. He couldn't stay and they needed to be working on a way to send him back his own universe. He just wished that he could stay a little longer. He liked the Colonel's friends. Or maybe he just liked the fact that they seemed to like him. This feeling of being wanted and needed was very addictive.

"So what now?"

Rodney gave him a long, assessing look that made him feel as though the man knew what he was thinking. "Now we tell everyone else and sit down to come up with a plan."

"Everyone being...?"

"Well, for starters, Elizabeth, Carson, Radek, Teyla and Ronon. Those last three already know something is fishy with you."

He hesitated before speaking. "But not Ford?"

Rodney had the most expressive face. "No." His voice was sad.

Sheppard nodded. The young lieutenant had died very early on in his own universe, but he had figured in almost every mission report Sheppard had read here. He had guessed by his absence however, that something had happened, something that he did not yet know about.

The second question was going to be harder. After all, he really didn't have the chance to know Ford all that well, especially under Sumner's command. But thanks to McKay's influence in his own universe, he had become friendly with the other expedition members during these past months. "And Peter?"

If Rodney's face had been expressive before, it was particularly eloquent now. The pain of loss sliced across his features at the mention of Peter Grodin. Sheppard nodded, not letting Rodney answer.

"Right." He wondered if the losses were somehow inevitable or if they balanced out. If you lost a Ford in one world would you eventually lose a Ford in another? If one universe lost a Peter, did it get to keep a Carson? Were there universes that had already lost their Rodneys, their Sheppards? He shook himself mentally. "Right," he repeated himself unnecessarily.

"Right," Rodney agreed.

****

_Oooh, tough crowd_. They were all seated in the briefing room. Sheppard was uncomfortably aware of the intense looks and glares he was receiving from the Colonel's colleagues and friends. He made a point of sitting in the last empty chair at the end of the table next to Rodney, which also happened to be as far from Ronon as he could get and still be in the same room. Ronon had fixed upon him an unwavering stare and it was starting to get on his nerves. Teyla seemed not to want to make eye contact with him at all, which was just as unnerving in its own way. Carson had looked on him with horrified recognition at the revelation and he had wanted to sink down in his seat and beg the floor to open up and swallow him at the expression on the man's face. Of them all, Radek seemed the least surprised.

Elizabeth was not pleased.

"So let me get this straight, Rodney. You wish to take a team back to Aerlon because you think you can reverse the process that brought _Major_ Sheppard to our universe and safely return to us our Colonel?" Her tone could make a penguin shiver.

"That is more or less what happened in my dream. According to the Major, what I experienced as a dream, the McKay of his universe experienced as an alien possession of his body, much like the situation between the Colonel and the Major at the moment. At any rate, it's all we've got to work with."

"And the Major saw fit to withhold this information from us...because?" The temperature in the room dropped another ten degrees.

"In his universe, the Wraith are slowly awakening, but they are not awakening en masse yet. The Major simply wanted intel on how to avoid some of our mistakes and thought the best way to get that was not to reveal too much at first." For someone who wasn't supposed to be very good at lying, Rodney's reply came out very smoothly. _I'm a bad influence_.

"I see," Elizabeth said in a manner that indicated she didn't. She turned to directly address Sheppard. "So in Rodney's 'dream', his role was primarily to convince your McKay to be _nicer_?"

Both he and Rodney managed a simultaneous wince on that one. "It sounds pretty far out there when you put it like that, Dr. Weir," Sheppard sighed. "But the truth of the matter is that things have changed for the better in my universe since his experience, I mean, _our_ McKay's experience. And from what both McKay's tell me, Rodney's dream parallels in many ways what McKay thought actually happened to him."

Everyone looked slightly confused. Well, except Ronon, who just looked pissed.

"So what are you saying? That Rodney's dream wasn't really a dream at all? That he really did travel to your universe, albeit in a compressed period of time?"

He shrugged. "I'm not really sure. There are some differences between the two situations with the teaching device. Rodney," he indicated the man sitting next to him, "was not aware of McKay at all during his experience, but I can hear the Colonel's...opinions...from time to time."

"I'll just bet you can," Carson muttered, not quite under his breath.

"So, if the device is working in the same manner as you describe, what exactly do you think you are here to teach the Colonel?" Teyla spoke for the first time.

"Um, I dunno." Sheppard wanted to give her a decent answer. "Maybe prudence and caution?"

Teyla gave a sudden bark of laughter and clapped her hand over her mouth, looking astonished at her outburst. This triggered a yelp of laughter from Carson, quickly turned into a cough. Radek chuckled and removed his glasses to polish them while Ronon smirked and Elizabeth tried very hard not to smile. Rodney snorted and shot Sheppard a conspiratorial look.

_Hey_! Well, if the shoe fits, Colonel...

"Well, that would be...different," Elizabeth conceded. "Though I am not sure Atlantis would be the same. Very well, you have a go first thing in the morning."

As everyone started to drift out of the briefing room, Sheppard caught up with Carson. "Doc," he said, "about your time in my universe..."

Carson winced as though he has stepped on a tack and then patted Sheppard on the arm. "Never you mind, lad," his accent was even more pronounced than usual. "I know you had no choice in the matter. You tried to do right by me and that's the best anyone can do sometimes." He gave Sheppard's arm a little squeeze and left the room.

Ronon had stopped at the door, watching the interaction with Beckett from a distance, and waited until Carson had started moving again before slipping silently from the room.

"Rodney," Sheppard frowned. "How is it that Ronon came to be on your team?"

Rodney folded his laptop and stood up. "You took a thorn out of his paw. And you fed him. If you don't want strays following you home, you have to stop feeding the wildlife."

"Hey, don't look at me," Sheppard raised his hands in an 'I didn't do it' gesture. "Soooo, why exactly does he stay? I mean, why does he accept the Colonel's leadership?"

Rodney fired off a 'you moron' look. It was refreshing to see. McKay gave him those all the time. "Why don't you ask Ronon yourself?"

"Er...right. Maybe I will." Not. You wouldn't by any chance know, would you Colonel? _I'm not speaking to you. I think that's the prudent thing to do_. Sheppard sighed and followed Rodney from the room.

****

After a late dinner for which Sheppard had little appetite, Rodney followed him back to his quarters. "I need more details on exactly what happened to your McKay during the whole of the Aerlon experience."

Sheppard tried to remember the details as best he could—he'd always gotten the impression that McKay had left some stuff out in the recounting of his experiences. What had made a bigger impression on him was the change in attitude that McKay had undergone since that time. Then too, he had no recollection of the experiences that Rodney described to him as part of his dream—just a weird sense of déjà vu on hearing Rodney recount them. Like they were almost there on the edge of his memory but not quite. He couldn't be sure how much of that was due to the Colonel's recollections however and the whole thing was starting to make his head pound in earnest.

Rodney recognized the incipient headache forming, and got him a glass of water and two Tylenol before getting ready to leave. Sheppard saw him to the door, even though the rooms were small enough that it was not technically necessary to do so. Rodney hesitated as he was leaving and Sheppard realized that on some level he had been hoping that would be the case.

"You know, the teaching device works both ways," Rodney spoke thoughtfully at last.

"Oh?" Sheppard frowned. "What did you get out of it?"

Rodney's expression was momentarily rueful until he smiled. "When I woke up from what I thought was just a weird dream, I had a whole new appreciation for what I had...and made a point to let the people I care about know that."

"Huh," Sheppard thought a moment. "McKay learned to share his coffee."

"Same thing." Rodney's shrug was eloquent. "I'm guessing here that you and McKay do not have the same relationship that John and I have?"

"Noooo." Only Sheppard had wondered a little. McKay _had_ given him some very searching looks since his reformation process had begun and it started to make a little more sense now. Obviously, the relationship was one of the things McKay had left out. Suddenly his senses were overwhelmed with the scent of Rodney's skin and the sensation of having his neck licked and the push of a sweat slicked body against his own and his mouth gaped open. _Ooops. Sorry_.

Rodney gave him a very dirty little smile and moved in on him as he stood stupefied, still processing the Colonel's X-rated memories. Rodney cupped one hand behind his neck and pulled him in for a deep, open-mouthed kiss. It started out slow and languid and built in intensity until Sheppard wanted only to breathe Rodney in, be filled by him, surrounded by him. It felt like he was finally home.

It ended suddenly. Rodney trailed his hand along Sheppard's jaw line as he pulled away. "Maybe you want to re-think that."

"Huh?" Sheppard blinked.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "The relationship. That you have with McKay. Re-think it." He sauntered out of the room. _Now who's being Kirk_?

****

Teyla approached him and Ronon as they waited by the Gate. "I have spoken with the Aerlon leaders. They assure me they understand the situation and have agreed to allow access to the temple. Dr. McKay and Dr. Zelenka have gone on in order to set up their equipment. A time of preparation is customary for the seeker, that would be you, Major." She indicated a small grove of trees not too far away, some scattered marble benches placed picturesquely in a circle in the clearing. "It was suggested that we wait there. The Major can then clear his mind and enter into the proper frame in order to continue the seeking. We will wait with you as fellow journeymen on your quest."

"My quest, Teyla?" Something about this didn't feel right. He quirked an eyebrow at her.

She shrugged. "I am merely repeating what the elders said to me. Apparently this temple is known far and wide for the potential enlightenment that can be found there. People have traveled from all over the galaxy to experience this."

"Be nice if they had mentioned this the _first_ time..." Sheppard grumbled as they made their way towards the grove of trees.

"Apparently, when a group enters the temple, it is not known who the seeker will be until the temple selects them. Often no one is selected. The Aerlons have come to believe that no undue influence should be made unless someone specifically asks for enlightenment."

"Okay, can we stop calling it 'enlightenment' now?"

Ronon snorted.

In the sunny glade, it was easy enough to pull up a mossy piece of ground and sit back against a tree trunk, to wait for the signal that all was ready. At first, that is. Ten minutes became twenty and Sheppard began to fidget. Teyla shot him a 'this is not the path to enlightenment' look but after another twenty minutes had passed, she began to look a little concerned as well. At the hour mark, Sheppard rose to his feet. "That's it," he said, "I'm done with waiting. Let's..."

Teyla was on her feet too and she interrupted. "I will go. I would hate to have the Aerlon decide you are not in the right frame of mind to enter the temple." She moved with swift strides across the open fields back towards the temple.

"The Colonel wouldn't have waited this long." Ronon's voice sounded deceptively sleepy, as though lulled by the sun. Sheppard shot him a look and found the eye of a predator on him.

No, the Colonel would not have waited this long. Sheppard had stayed up late into the night reading the rest of the mission reports when sleep eluded him again. Colonel The-Best-Solution-To-All-Problems-Is-To-Fly-A-Nuke-Straight-At-It Sheppard would have stormed the temple long before now. "Tell me, Ronon," Sheppard's voice was sharp. "Why do you stay under his command? Why do you follow the orders of someone so different from you when you're obviously cut out to make your own decisions, fight your own battles?"

Ronon looked at him steadily for a long time. "Because he _is_ so different. Because _my_ commander let me down. Because he doesn't ask you to do anything he wouldn't do himself. Because he would die to protect his people."

"Oh." _Oh_. Both Sheppards felt humbled.

"Major!" Teyla's voice was urgent over the com link. "Please come at once to the temple. We have a problem."

He and Ronon covered the ground to the temple in a sprint, and discovered a very angry looking Teyla standing outside the temple with a row of Aerlon people blocking her way. Armed Aerlon people...interesting, for a primitive people, they seemed to possess some very advanced developments in projectile weaponry. Developments far beyond what their civilization should be able to support. He began to smell a nasty set-up here.

"Teyla," Sheppard drawled. Anyone who knew him would know this was not a good thing. "What seems to be the problem here?"

"The problem," Teyla was livid, "is that the Aerlon people have decided to take Drs. McKay and Zelenka hostage. They have already had me contact Elizabeth regarding negotiating for their release."

"Major." Elizabeth's voice over the link was resolute in his ear. "We do not negotiate with terrorists."

"Your leader has made her position clear." The Aerlon leader was all smiles. "A pity. Of course, we had heard this was true of your people..."

"Maybe you've also heard that you shouldn't make enemies of us." Inside Sheppard a cold, cold anger was building.

"Oh yes, we heard that too." The Aerlon leader seemed completely unconcerned. "However, the offer of negotiation was merely a formality. We actually don't need you. Acastus Kolya has offered us a very attractive price for Dr. McKay. The other little man is merely a bonus. Now, now," he waved them off as the team raised their weapons, the surrounding Aerlons doing the same. "That will not get you anywhere. Your scientists have already been relocated off world and you are outnumbered."

"You hear that, Dr. Weir?" Sheppard's voice was silky smooth. "It doesn't matter that _we_ will not negotiate with terrorists because they can always find someone else who will. You know what? I'm _sick_ of this." He pointed a finger at the Aerlon leader. "Negotiate this. Return our people in good health or we will nuke your planet."

" _Major Sheppard_!" Elizabeth's voice was horrified.

"You heard them, Elizabeth." Sheppard allowed a lifetime of anger to bleed through. "Our scientists are already lost to us—moved off world for this Kolya to pick up. I say it ends here. Let's make an example of these people once and for all—you take our personnel and we will _obliterate_ you. It's too late for McKay and Zelenka, but maybe we can prevent anyone else from ever being taken again. Have Lorne load a puddlejumper with a nuke and send it through the Gate."

There was a small pause, and then Teyla said coldly, "I concur with the Major."

"I _like_ this plan," Ronon added. He gave the Aerlons a feral smile.

The Aerlon leadership exchanged horrified looks.

"Major..." Elizabeth began, but Sheppard cut her off.

"Elizabeth. Ready the goddamn nukes. Sheppard out." He cut radio contact. "Gosh," he smiled at the leader. "I feel enlightened already."

"Please," the leader said in an agonized voice, "if you would give me a moment to confer with my colleagues..."

They withdrew a short distance from the temple, and began what looked like a very heated debate amongst them, occasionally throwing looks in the direction of the team. Ronon casually made a knife appear and began cleaning underneath his fingernails which made Sheppard want to laugh at the reaction it caused amongst the Aerlon, only his anger was now burning inside him like a funeral pyre.

"Prudence."

Sheppard shot a look over at Ronon, who continued to clean under his nails with the knife. He flicked a glance up at Sheppard before adding, "And caution." He gave a short laugh.

Sheppard laughed in response, genuinely amused now. If anything, the Aerlon looked even more concerned.

After a bit, the leader cautiously approached. "Please, Major. If you would but give us a short period of time, we will arrange the return of your people to you. Say, one hour?"

"Say, 30 minutes." Sheppard gave a not-smile and checked his watch. The leader struggled to produce a weak smile and nodded before backing away.

The team waited in stony silence as some of the Aerlons departed hastily and the remainder stood around and shifted nervously. After about twenty minutes, the Gate began to dial behind them and a wormhole formed. As they watched, several Aerlons escorted Rodney and Radek back through the Gate, both men looking a little frazzled but no worse for the wear.

"Finally!" Rodney huffed as he reached Sheppard's side. "Okay, let's go inside and get this over with..."

"No, McKay," Sheppard was firm. "We're done here. Dial home."

"But..."

"No, buts." Sheppard turned his residual anger on Rodney. "Damn it, do as I say for once. Dial home."

Rodney's face tightened and Sheppard knew that he had not heard the last of it by a long shot, but Rodney headed for the DHD and dialed the address for Atlantis. There was relief in Elizabeth's voice when she acknowledged his code.

Sheppard turned towards the Aerlon leader. "Give Kolya my regards." He was just turning back towards the Gate when a bright purple beam shot out through the temple doors and struck him full in the chest.

****

John's eyelids fluttered open, but before he could take in his surroundings, he was aware of Rodney shouting in an imperious tone, "Carson! He's awake. Get your ass in here."

He closed his eyes again. He was deliciously warm. He was cocooned in some sort of soft, fuzzy blanket. It was very nice where he was and he was not certain it was truly necessary to return to the land of the shouting. Rodney, of course, had other ideas.

"Colonel? Are you joining us or not?" A warm hand engulfed his own, squeezing it hard briefly, while another stroked his forearm.

John opened one eye, squinting at Rodney, who was trying hard to look casually unconcerned while simultaneously turning over his shoulder to shout, "Car-SON!"

"It could've been worse, you know," he said seriously.

"Really." Rodney managed to instill a whole new depth of sarcasm into the word. "You mean other than you being mostly dead all day?"

John blinked. "No...I could've brought _Moby Dick_."

"Oh Carson, thank god. He's not making any sense." Rodney released his hand and turned to Beckett.

"Aye, I hear him, though truthfully, he shouldn't even be able to speak at all. I'm sorry I didn't believe you earlier, Rodney. Now son," Carson's hand was gentle on his shoulder. "What's this about _Moby Dick_?"

"Instead of _War and Peace_ ," he sighed. " _Moby Dick_. That would have really sucked, wouldn't it?"

"You spend hours as close to death as anyone can be without getting an autopsy as the result of messing with an alien teaching device and the best that you can come up with is that thank god you didn't bring _Moby Dick_?" John had never heard Rodney's voice reach quite that decibel level before.

"Jeez, Rodney. Dogs back on Earth are howling now. Or they will be once you account for the time delay." He winced, pressing the heel of his left hand to the side of his head briefly. The fingers of his right hand flicked ever so slightly in Rodney's direction and Rodney's hand bumped closer to his, making contact.

"Sounds like he's making perfect sense to me." Carson's voice was both relieved and amused. "Now Colonel, I just need to run a few tests on you here..."

"Argh," said John, scrunching up his face. He hated Carson's tests.

"Serves you right." Rodney was quieter now. John just smiled up at him.

****

McKay staggered to the door, yawning, as the chime rang insistently.

"What?" He demanded, as the door opened to reveal the Major, dressed in a black t-shirt and sweatpants, carrying a nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels. "This had better be a dire emergency, Major. The city is about to explode, Wraith hive ships have been detected overhead, we're all out of blue Jello...no, no, don't stand on ceremony, by all means, invite yourself in."

McKay glared at the Major who had pushed his way past him and was now standing in the center of his quarters with an expectant expression on his face.

"McKay." The major looked flushed, like he was already a little drunk. But McKay had shared a few drinks with him months ago and he knew that the bottle of JD had been almost empty then. "The people from your alternative universe found the temple on Aerlon."

McKay sucked in his breath.

"Yup," Sheppard nodded. "And my AU counterpart got trapped in the beam, which I experienced as a dream. Same thing happened to _your_ counterpart—you had the impression of being possessed when you weren't really, the other Rodney thought he just had a dream about an alternative universe."

"Are you sure it really wasn't a dream?" McKay was interested now, but skeptical.

"Pretty sure. I couldn't make this shit up. My counterpart? A Lt. Colonel. And oh by the way, fucking _insane_." Sheppard was beaming at him with the face of someone bursting at the seams to share a good story.

"Sit, sit." McKay was suddenly the proper host. "Tell all. No, not there, over here." McKay directed him towards the foot of the bed, so the two could be seated within easy reach to pass the bottle back and forth. He seated himself, half turned to face Sheppard who had taken a seat as well and was uncapping the bottle. He handed it to McKay without taking a swig. It had perhaps two swallows left. Grinning over the mouth of the bottle, McKay said, "So let's hear it."

"Sure," Sheppard's smile was suddenly lazy, a slight drawl in his voice. "Just one thing first. When were you going to tell me you were such a great kisser?"

It was only by virtue of the fact that McKay was well aware that this was the last of the JD in the city that he didn't spew out his mouthful all over the bedspread. He choked and coughed instead. Sheppard's hand reached out and thumped him once on the back, before stroking between his shoulders briskly and then slowing his touch. He left his hand in place as he met McKay's eye and asked, "You okay there?"

McKay nodded, not trusting his voice. Sheppard gave that weird little half-smile that was somehow incredibly attractive and moved his hand slowly up and down McKay's shoulder. He had to resist arching into the touch and purring like a cat. He smiled weakly instead and handed the bottle back to Sheppard, who removed his hand to take it. He accepted it with a knowing look and tipped the bottle up, pulling the last of the whiskey out of it. McKay watched in fascination as his Adam's apple bobbed with the swallow. He set the empty bottle on the floor at his feet.

"Soooo." McKay swallowed hard. "Um...what else did you learn?"

"That you were right about Elizabeth's hair—we _so_ need to stage a total makeover and now I know what you have in mind." He laughed at McKay's expression; obviously intent on teasing before becoming more serious. "And somewhere out there is this guy named Ronon, we need to keep an eye out for him, he could prove to be a great asset to our team, if he doesn't kill us first. I've got a line on a place where we can look for a ZPM and some ideas for what we can do if we fail in that but the Wraith come anyway. All that is for tomorrow though."

He yawned suddenly, stretching one arm up behind his head and pulling on the back of it with his other hand. The action pulled up his t-shirt, revealing a thin line of skin at his waist, a dark trail of hair marking a path straight down his abdomen and diving into the drawstring of his sweat pants. McKay's eye unconsciously followed the course marked out for him and then caught himself. He glanced up quickly at Sheppard's face, hazel eyes meeting his own with interest. He smiled a little 'gotcha' grin.

He looked happy. McKay realized he had never seen Sheppard look this relaxed and generally pleased with life before. He blinked. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

Sheppard laughed softly. "I was saying all that could wait 'til tomorrow. Tonight, thought I would tell you what Rodney did when he found out I was an imposter..."

~fin~

  
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